


A Voice in the Distance

by torikabori



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-11-15 04:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11223105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torikabori/pseuds/torikabori
Summary: In which a soulmate connection has three parts: a shared heartbeat, some secondhand emotions, and a sense of when your soulmate is looking at you.Each has its inconveniences-- especially when one half of the pair is famous, the other has anxiety, and they're born several timezones apart.





	1. Echoes

**Author's Note:**

> Me: aww soulmate AUs for this ship are so cute. I should try one! it'll be quick and easy, it doesn't need to be perfect, I'll just jot it down in between other projects, haha it'll be nice just to do a cute little thing! no pressure! I'll get it done in no time, get it out of my system, then go back to the list of other small-effort little things that were just supposed to be fun before they spiraled out of control--
> 
> Also me, but fifty rewrites later at four in the morning: why do I play myself every time
> 
>  
> 
> ...anyway I have no excuse for this. Please read and enjoy

It's usually during puberty when soulmates begin to sync up.

The most reliable connection is the pulse: the two hearts beat at the exact same time. This is the only one verifiable with modern technology; most health professionals offer tests, and it's recommended that you take one before making any drastic life changes for your potential soulmate.

A less verifiable, but often more noticeable connection is the empathic one. If one half of a pair experiences some extreme emotion, the other might feel it too. It is very common for soulmates to cry at the same time, or to laugh at the same joke, even if only one heard it.

The final connection, totally invisible but impossible to mistake, is the eyes. It's like an extra sense, people say: you always know when your soulmate is looking at you. This last one is tricky, since you don't have the same sense when you're looking back at them. And god forbid you get famous in the twenty-first century before you find them, because apparently, photos and videos count.

* * *

 

Victor Nikiforov is sixteen the first time he gets anything from his soulmate.

He is on his way to ballet practice, determined not to slack off between seasons, especially after his first win at World's a week ago. It is morning in St. Petersburg, cold and windy, and Victor is yawning into his thick scarf, clutching his bag and waiting for the light to change at a busy intersection, when he feels it.

His soulmate is looking at him.

Victor nearly shouts in joy. He looks around, frantically trying to fix his hair and wishing he was better dressed, thrilled to finally have proof of his connection. He thinks he even feels an emotion from them-- something like awe, admiration, with maybe a tiny hint of nerves-- and okay, maybe the nerves are from him, but he's pretty sure the admiration isn't, his soulmate is definitely here, looking at him for the first time and liking what they see.

Victor stands at that intersection for several more cycles of the light, desperately scanning the crowd, trying to catch someone's eye. He stands straight and he gives his best camera-ready smile, he holds onto that feeling, he looks and he waits... and then his soulmate's presence is gone.

Victor is late to practice. He feels his soulmate's eyes again periodically as he walks, but whenever he looks up, no one is there. He is mindful of his own emotions that day, waiting and listening down that invisible connection, hoping for another feeling, but there's nothing big enough to reach him. He gets that sense of being watched again the next day, around the same time as he walks a different route to the studio, but again there's nobody there.

(On the other end of the continent, a young skater is just getting to the age where his soulmate connection forms. Mostly he tries not to think about it. After school one afternoon, as he and his friend change into skating gear, she shows him videos of this year's Junior Men's Singles World Champion, a Russian teenager named Victor Nikiforov. The boy thinks he has never seen anyone so talented, or so beautiful.)

*

Victor is seventeen when he first experiences the less pleasant side effects of a shared heartbeat and borrowed emotions.

He is at practice, going through his short program about a month before the competition season starts, and he is just gearing up for a jump when his heart starts hammering. It's not entirely unusual for his pulse to speed up at odd times-- he's been woken up in the wee hours of the morning before, feeling like he's just run a marathon, or gotten sudden jolts of adrenaline throughout the day-- but this is different.

Victor is gliding easily over the ice, bending his knees like he has a thousand times, at first believing that the rush in his ears is just his own excitement. He kicks his toe pick, lifts off into a triple, and as he's spinning weightless through the air, the world seems to tilt into something _wrong_.

He two-foots the landing, and dimly he registers that Yakov is yelling at him about letting his mind wander. But everything's fuzzy, even the music in his ears. He's completely out of breath, and he feels like he's still suspended above the ice, the world spinning around him.

He wobbles his way to the side of the rink and grips the wall for support. Someone asks if he's okay. He grips at his chest and realizes that his face is wet and burning; he's crying and he's terrified and he has no idea why.

And then he realizes that the fear and heart palpitations aren't coming from him, and that just scares him even worse.

"Vitya." Somehow the gruff voice cuts through his panic. "Vitya, look at me. What's wrong?"

Victor shakes his head. Yakov orders him to sit down, to breathe, and he knows he has to obey his coach. He collapses right next to the rink and forces down huge, painful gulps of air. It seems to take forever for his heart to stabilize, and even then he's still shaking. He swallows and he wipes his face and he lets Yakov rub his back until he can speak properly again. He's not injured; he doesn't know what's wrong; he doesn't think he can keep skating today.

When Yakov lets him go home early to recover, he spends the rest of the night Googling how to know if one's soulmate is sick or dead. He lies awake, hugging his dog and wondering if he's all alone in the world, until about two in the morning when he feels his soulmate looking at him again.

(Six timezones away, a thirteen-year-old with an undiagnosed anxiety disorder is dreading another day at school after yesterday's panic attack. He's pressing the snooze button on his alarm, somehow exhausted and agitated at the same time. He turns over in bed to stare absently at the figure skating poster on the other side of the room, when his eyes suddenly spill over, and he's hit with a tidal wave of relief and affection. It's disturbing enough to wake him up, but it fades gradually during breakfast, and by the time he's walking to school his heartbeat has slowed to its usual morning calm.

It's the first time he's had proof of his soulmate connection, and he doesn't particularly like it.)

*

Victor is eighteen when he finally understands that his soulmate doesn't simply watch his skating; they _love_ his skating.

They're watching him all the time during competition season. While he doesn't always feel it during the performance itself, it's definitely there for three-minute chunks after every short program, and four and a half minute chunks after every free skate.

Sometimes after a program is done, he feels another, shorter ping on his soulmate radar. That puzzles him until he times it to the official broadcast of the Rostelecom Cup, and realizes that his soulmate must be watching him at the Kiss and Cry, too. He also deduces that his soulmate sometimes watches the programs several times over, or maybe he watches a bunch of them in succession, or maybe he's rewatching his favorite parts. Sometimes, when he feels that long and unbroken gaze, he gets the secondhand emotions too: admiration, fondness, and just a hint of desire.

Of course, Victor cannot know whether they look at any of the other skaters this way-- he's not even the best, after all. His scores in the senior division are good, but he hasn't won yet, hasn't yet followed through on the promise of his junior days, hasn't yet earned the love and adoration that his anonymous friend is so freely giving him.

Victor has not met his soulmate yet, but he brags to his rinkmates that they believe in him, and he's going to win for them. Yakov tells him to get serious, but Victor has never been more serious about anything else in his young life.

He makes the podium at the Grand Prix Final that year, hosted in Tokyo. He feels his soulmate watching him all through his performances and at the medal ceremony, and he chooses to believe that some of the joy he's feeling is secondhand.

(A train ride away, a small town's hot springs inn is showing the figure skating championships on their TV, and rather than hiding in his room like usual, the owners' young son is sitting right by the television, enraptured. He's so overcome with admiration for his skating hero that he does not realize that some of the happiness fluttering in his chest is not entirely his own.)

*

Victor is twenty when he starts seriously trying to piece together his soulmate's identity.

He spends a few weeks carrying around a timer and a notepad, and he writes down all the times he feels his soulmate looking at him. He also writes down when his pulse speeds up unexpectedly-- sometimes that's hard, when it's the extreme, heart-attack-like version of it, and he's so overcome with the accompanying fear that he has to just sit and breathe. But more often it's a small spike, a general agitation for a few minutes to an hour. A couple times a day, there's a sustained two-hour rhythm of speeding up, keeping that fast pace, and gradually slowing down.

After the first few weeks of haphazard data collection, Victor grins at his notebook, noticing the regularity of the strenuous exertion and realizing his soulmate must be a fellow athlete. Victor tries to picture him-- and he can't help thinking of the person as a _him_ , because Victor really _really_ wants his soulmate to be a romantic partner and Victor has known which gender he's attracted to since the age of about zero-- and he ends up daydreaming about his most handsome competitors in the men's singles division for an embarrassing amount of time before he realizes that there's no guarantee that he and his soulmate play the same sport.

And sadly, the heartrate data rules out his rinkmates, including his (former) (...mostly former) crush, Evgeni. And there's also no adrenaline spike during international competitions, no matter who's performing, so it's definitely not Johnny or Stephane.

But looking over his notes, Victor thinks that he needs to find this young man soon, because he needs help. He spends so much time feeling anxious enough for Victor to be affected; he cries several times a week; he has some kind of heart condition that must be absolutely unbearable, if Victor's secondhand experience is anything to go by.

So when Victor is not fantasizing about a hunky athlete, he wonders if his soulmate is some kind of frightened damsel, waiting for Victor to come and save him from whatever is hurting him so badly. He keeps his eyes peeled as he walks to and from practice, on the lookout for anyone who seems particularly sad or frightened, even though he knows by now that the person probably isn't looking at him directly. His skating has made him somewhat famous; they're more likely seeing publicity photos.

At some point he gets it into his head that maybe they see him at work; sadly, that could be anywhere, since sports stores all over the country are still displaying that poster from the 2003 World Championships, and teenage Victor is right in the middle of it. What would he do, drive to every store he can find and make eye contact with all the employees, to see if anyone matches up with his soulmate-senses?

Okay, fine, maybe he spends the whole spring and summer doing that. Maybe he blows all of his free time in the off-season and all of his gas money on this project. And maybe he visits about fifty stores, three or four times each to catch the different shifts, before finally giving up. But to be fair, his soulmate had an absolutely hellish winter, getting heart-stopping anxiety almost daily for one awful week right after Nationals, and Victor is starting to get a little desperate.

Yakov yells at him when it starts to affect his skating, and Victor realizes that his skating is the only way he can reach this person. So he throws himself into practice. Maybe they'll make more posters of him.

(Thousands of miles away, the Japanese Junior Nationals silver medallist is just trying to find a place to have his post-competition mental breakdown in peace when he gets cornered by the press. They pester him with all the cliche kid questions, from Favorite School Subject to What You Want To Be When You Grow Up to Have You Any Thoughts About Your Soulmate, Young Man?

He dodges the soulmate question, saying he's never felt them and it'll happen when it's meant to-- which, he privately thinks, is probably never, because he's a mess that no one would want and he knows this. He says his favorite subject is gym class-- which they all laugh at, and he doesn't explain that it's the only class with no tests and no homework and no sitting still, so it's the only one that doesn't give him heart palpitations. He says he just wants to be a good skater when he's grown-- he won't embarrass himself by admitting the true extent of his ambitions.

He goes home from Nationals exhausted yet agitated, sizzling with nervous energy. He throws himself into practice and ballet and studying, and he adds three new posters to his ever-growing shrine to the only person in his future that he cares about.

He can't think about his soulmate, but when he grows up, he wants to be Victor Nikiforov.)

*

Victor is twenty-two when he starts trying to find a way to help.

His soulmate still spends so much time upset or afraid, and it's started getting especially bad this year, with tears every morning for first two weeks of September. Victor can only do so much when he doesn't know who this person is, but he is determined to be a good partner. He's made a career out of becoming whoever the world needs him to be. He can certainly do it for his soulmate.

There is absolutely no way to send conscious thoughts through their connection-- everyone knows that-- but he can send feelings.

So when his unknown friend is particularly frightened, Victor tries to comfort him. He thinks of happy memories, cuddles his dog, plays his favorite music. He buys a new phone with extra storage space for this. Yakov gets angry when he takes it out during practice, and Victor doesn't even know if any of it works, but sometimes... sometimes, he feels his soulmate looking at him when the bad feelings are fading.

Victor's soulmate watches his skating, and finds hope and comfort there. In Victor's opinion, this is the clearest message he could ever get.

So Victor listens to Yakov and puts down the phone. He practices, he learns new jumps, he agrees to double the number of ads and uses the money to hire his own composer and costume designer. He starts developing the next season's programs before the current one is even finished. He's already let his very few non-professional relationships fall by the wayside; anyone who can't make room for Victor's career and Victor's soulmate just can't make room for Victor.

The lack of distraction pays off. He wins gold at Worlds, and he can feel his soulmate's pride.

(On the other side of the world, an eighteen-year-old international student is having an abysmal freshman year. He has no friends in America yet, he still struggles with colloquial English, and if the transition from Juniors to Seniors was rough, the transition from high school in tiny Hasetsu to college in Detroit is even worse. He's crying himself to sleep every night and he's never felt more alone.

The only thing that helps, the only thing he can cling to, is his goal. He sets up his Victor Nikiforov posters and his Victor Nikiforov figurines and his Victor Nikiforov playlist in his dorm room, and it feels a little more like home. He watches Victor's interviews, and he gets a little more comfortable with English.

In the throes of an anxiety attack, it's a little hard for him to notice his heartbeat slowing down fractionally, his soulmate making their shared terror just a little easier, a little more brief, than it would have been otherwise. He doesn't know that anyone besides Victor is helping him through this. When he meets Victor someday, he'll thank him for everything he's done.

He doesn't want to meet his soulmate at all. He's sure they must hate him by now.)

*

Victor is twenty-four when he decides that he doesn't need to know his soulmate's identity in order to know that he is amazing and wonderful and the two of them are madly in love.

By now Victor is getting a lot from him; the connection is strong enough that he gets flashes of emotion throughout the day, not just the overwhelming ones. And sure, maybe Victor's just particularly susceptible to it because he spends so much time feeling empty-- and okay, maybe this means the anxiety attacks are just a little bit stronger when they happen-- but he treasures every little glimpse of this person's life. Because whoever he is, he is an inspiration.

He still gets agitated, still panics, but he's found a way to channel it. Often his heartrate stays up, but his emotions settle. Whatever sport he does, he works hard at it, and whatever else he is doing with his life, he works hard at that too. Victor has these moments of zen-like focus, which he has experienced himself when working through a particularly hard routine.

Victor's soulmate is doing so much better these days, if their connection is anything to go by. Victor still gets flashes of sadness, loneliness, fear-- but more than anything, he feels _love_.

"He must have at least five pets," Victor says to Christophe Giacometti one night, as they walk toward a hotel together. He and Chris aren't that close, but they're at least friendly, and Victor isn't really 'that close' to anyone besides Makkachin, who can only give so many tail-wags of agreement before the topic is exhausted. And Yakov has put a moratorium on all soulmate talk at his own rink so Victor has no outlet there. And maybe Victor had a little too much champagne at the banquet after the European Championships, and that's the real reason he's running his mouth, but Victor is also in _love_ and it's made him a _champion_ and he has to tell _someone_ about it.

"Maybe a few siblings, too. I bet he's popular. And handsome."

"Are you sure it's just one?" Chris asks, laughing. He explains that his current boyfriend has two confirmed soulmates, neither of them Chris. He hasn't met his own yet and doesn't see the point of waiting. "It's not unheard of to have more than one soulmate, you know," Chris points out. "Everyone's heard of someone."

"Not me," Victor declares. "I know it's just him. It's like-- these feelings, they're all the same... flavor."

"I'm sure any soulmate of yours is _delicious_."

"I know he is!" Victor cries, waving his arms dramatically. "Even if I haven't tasted him yet, I have faith!"

Chris laughs, full-throated and honest, and Victor lets him think it's a joke. "Well, if you're sure. Personally I don't believe any man on earth could compete with Luca, but I am ready for one to try."

Apparently Luca is not Chris's boyfriend, but his cat. Beloved pets are a far safer subject, and Victor gladly spends the rest of the walk swapping photos and stories, mildly regretting that he brought up soulmates after all.

It's... odd, he thinks, that the cute little Swiss boy who once looked up to Victor has grown up to become... this. Chris is only twenty-two but he's so sure of himself, he knows who he is and wants to be, he has life and love that's independent of his career and more tangible than a some emotional connection with someone he's never met. Victor is... well, not jealous, exactly. Chris deserves that, he's a good guy.

It's just that Victor wants it, too. He wants it so badly.

As they approach the hotel, Victor's heartrate goes up: his soulmate is working hard tonight. Not just that, but as a low-burning bit of disappointment gives way to grim determination, Victor senses his gaze, and _fuck_ , Victor needs to meet him soon. He needs to know what a person's face looks like when they're full of so much love. He needs to know what it feels like to _be_ that loved.

When he arrives at the hotel, Victor tries to give an encouraging smile to anyone with a camera, ignoring the way Chris laughs at him.

Victor doesn't care if every sports journalist in the world thinks he's a flirt and a tease, so long as his soulmate gets to see him looking back.

(Yuuri Katsuki of Japan, currently training in Detroit, is not satisfied with this season. He wants to skate on the same ice as Victor Nikiforov one day, and he can't do that with such dismal technical scores. So he goes back to his and Yuuko's old training methods: watching Victor in slow motion, filming himself and comparing the two videos-- and it's like comparing Picasso to a child's crayon art, god help him-- and he fights and films and he skates on bloody feet until he's got a flawless triple axel.

He doesn't make the Grand Prix series, but he wins Japanese Nationals. At Four Continents, he does not place, but for the very first time, he feels the eyes of his soulmate. And more importantly-- he only feels a little guilty for thinking of this as _more important_ than his _soulmate_ \-- the twitter account v-nikiforov posts some very sportsmanlike appreciation for the showing at Four Continents, and the picture he uses for the thumbnail is not of the winner. It's a still of Yuuri's free skate.

Yuuri isn't delusional enough to think that Victor meant him specifically, or paid him any special attention, but he'll take it as a sign all the same. Yuuri's spent so long looking up to Victor, and for just a moment, Victor was looking back.)

*

Victor has been skating for his soulmate for years, but he is twenty-five when he has a song written explicitly for them.

He can't use it this season, of course; it's already late September, not nearly enough time to commission the music, nail down the choreography, and still get enough practice in for the upcoming Grand Prix.

Which isn't to say that Victor would never make such a drastic change this late in the year-- he's done it twice before, much to Yakov's exasperation-- but this is a song for his soulmate, and it has to be absolutely perfect.

He mostly works on it at night, since he can't sleep anyway; his soulmate now does his daily exercise very late, sometimes past midnight. Victor decides he'll use this time for private practice, or for brainstorming if his body doesn't quite keep up. He's the three-time World Champion and one of the most popular athletes in Russia, so of course the rink lets him have all the after-hours private time he wants.

Victor probably should be more annoyed that he's never fully awake for Yakov's scheduled group practice in the morning, and he knows that it's partly his soulmate's fault that a lack of sleep has left him feeling so burned out lately. But how can Victor be mad at him, when he's working so hard? Besides, it just feels right that they're practicing together. It feels right that he's creating this dance when it's just the two of them, taking his time to tell this story, the most important one he's ever told on the ice.

In the empty rink, the beginning of it to him easily, like a song Victor's heart has been singing all his life.

_"I hear a voice crying in the distance..."_

(Across the ocean, Yuuri knows only a few things about his soulmate. He has a sense of their sleep schedule, which would put them somewhere in Europe. He knows they work very hard at whatever they do, though the passion is fading a bit. They're physically active; they spend a lot of time either partying late into the night or travelling across time zones. It must be a very full life.

He's only felt their eyes a couple of times, when he's done particularly well at Four Continents. They likely follow figure skating, but can't be bothered keeping up with anyone below a certain level. And why would they? If they really are European, they get to watch Victor Nikiforov.

Well, someday Yuuri is going to reach that level, and they won't ignore him for much longer. On good days, this is what he thinks about.

On bad days, he remembers that his own mental weakness must be affecting them. He does feel things from them-- longing, affection, frustration, determination-- but lately they've been dulled, muted like Yuuri's own emotions when he's just come down from a panic attack, his heart wrung out like a wet towel until he can't get one more drop from it. Yuuri wonders if he's to blame for his soulmate's depression, after all the shit he's made them put up with.

If he ever meets them, the first thing he'll do is apologize.)

*

Victor is twenty-six years old and the four-time World Champion when he finally meets his soulmate, although he doesn't know it at first.

He feels those eyes so much now that it's become the background music of his life, something he's only conscious of when he's looking for it. It's become a part of him that he can't bear to lose, messages from a person he knows and loves and misses desperately, even though they've never met.

Victor knows his soulmate is watching him in Sochi; he thinks that's all he needs to know as he gets ready to skate to the aria he made just for them; perhaps that's why he doesn't pay attention to the fact that those eyes do not follow the cameras this time.

He has also, unfortunately, gotten used to the random bouts of sadness and fear; he knows his friend has been having a rough time lately. He felt it spike the other night, a couple hours after the short program-- shock and grief like a punch to the gut, and all Victor could do was cry at a picture of Makkachin and wait for it to pass. It only gets worse before and during the free skate; Victor's soulmate is so distressed when the Japanese competitor is up that he can't even focus on the performance.

Victor usually makes a point of watching his direct competition, especially someone who came out of nowhere and dances like that and is in third after the short program. But by the one-minute mark Victor has to actually shut his eyes and breathe, then discretely scroll through his collection of happy pictures for the entirety of the second half. He'll watch later, he thinks; he has to be okay for his own free program, so he can dance for the partner who needs him.

(Down on the ice, Yuuri thinks he might be scoring a personal worst. He has felt his soulmate's passing glance a couple of times this weekend, they even watched his short program live. But after Vicchan dying, and all the pressure building up, and all the binge eating that could never quite fill the hole in him, it's like his whole body is off balance. He's so bad that his own soulmate isn't interested in his performance; the longer it goes on and the more he falls, the more they're looking away. As he strikes his final pose, barely holding back the urge to just leave the rink now and run for the hotel or the airport or maybe a nice ditch somewhere, Yuuri wonders if he ought to retire before he wastes anyone else's time.)

Victor feels his soulmate's heartrate slow to something more manageable by the time he's up, although he's still in pain. There is a lump in Victor's throat as he approaches the ice. His limbs are heavy and his eyes are prickling. But as he sheds his jacket and skate guards, adjusts his costume, and steps out onto the frozen stage, he hears the roar of the crowd and feels the warmth of his soulmate's gaze. And Victor has spent a lifetime learning to perform what he has to, when he has to, so he smiles and waves at every camera he can find, showing not a trace of sadness.

He gets into his starting pose, waits for his cue, and then reaches out to his soulmate the only way he knows how.

(Up in the stands with the other competitors, Yuuri thinks he might cry at his idol's free skate. It's easily Victor's best performance yet, just like every one before it. Yuuri watches Victor beat his own record again, watches Victor take gold for the fifth year in a row, watches Victor dazzle and inspire and make the whole world more beautiful just by existing. Yuuri watches him, and thinks of his own disastrous career, thinks of how he's failed everyone from his family to his coach to his soulmate to his _dog_ , and when he can't take it anymore he goes to hide in the bathroom like the stupid pathetic loser he is.)

Victor doesn't know what he did wrong.

His soulmate watched his free skate all the way through, and... it made him sad. Miserable. Victor's heart is aching as he gets off the ice, even worse as he sits in the Kiss and Cry and realizes that his soulmate isn't watching him at all, this time. He still puts on a show for the cameras-- maybe he's just in the middle of something, he'll surely watch later and Victor wants his beloved to see only smiles from him.

Victor is so used to this feeling that he knows exactly when the tears will hit. After the medal ceremony, he narrowly slips away from the cameras, hides in an empty bathroom, and shakily scrolls through social media and baby animal pictures while he waits for his poor soulmate to finish weeping.

When they're both done, Victor gets himself cleaned up and throws himself back into the crowds. He keeps himself distracted by giving interviews, congratulating his competitors, offering advice for the junior skaters.

His soulmate looks at him just one more time that night, as he's talking to Yuri Plisetsky on the way out, and it's an effort to stay nonchalant. Victor is so focused on his performance that when he finally notices someone staring at him in person, he never believes that it's _him_ , not even when the gloomy-looking man in the Team Japan jacket turns away, and he feels his soulmate look away at the same time.

(Yuuri is too mired in shame and self-loathing to accept what is staring him right in the face when Victor Nikiforov offers to take a photo with him. There are no cameras, but Yuuri feels his soulmate's eyes again-- and fuck, he thinks, they're probably right here in the lobby, wondering who the greatest skater in the world is talking to. Yuuri turns away, hating himself and everything that has brought him here, and he feels the person he's hurt so much staring at him for the entire journey to the front door.)

*

At the banquet, Victor is slowly going numb. His soulmate finally watched him again late last night. He watched Victor and cried.

Everyone wants to talk about Victor's free skate. It was a love song for his soulmate, who Victor has never publicly identified; of course they all want details.

Luckily, Victor has mastered the art of talking someone's ear off without actually saying anything, and he exercises this ability to its fullest extent. He's also very good at smiling and shmoozing with sponsors, even when all he wants to do is crawl under a rock and wallow in self-pity for a week. So he dons his champion playboy mask and does what he does best: becomes what the world needs him to be.

(Celestino drags Yuuri to the banquet so he doesn't wallow in his room, and Yuuri is dismayed to realize his soulmate sees him here, too-- they probably work for the ISU or a sponsor or something. Either way, their gaze doesn't linger, and Yuuri keeps out of sight, not talking to anyone lest someone realize who he is and what a terrible partner he's been, especially after they've all seen what a terrible skater he is. He knows he'll be one of those people rejected by his own soulmate because he's just such a disappointment. The thought makes Yuuri so miserable that he doesn't speak to anyone, he just stands off to the side near the drink table and busies himself with a glass of champagne.)

Victor wants a drink. He wants a lot of drinks. He can't get wasted in public, of course, but maybe he can pre-game for the pity party he's going to throw for himself in his hotel room later. He starts edging toward the drink table, making it about halfway there before scrapping the whole plan. His soulmate has been through enough; he can't bother them with his own tears on top of whatever awful thing happened the other day.

He spots a man over at the drink table-- the same one from the lobby, and he looks even more miserable now.

(It's been almost an hour and Yuuri hasn't said a word to anyone. Usually when he gets this upset he starts eating his feelings; it's part of what cost him the competition. And what made him probably fail half his finals. And will make him fat again. There's not much in the way of snacks here, and food will just make Yuuri hate himself more, so he sticks to the champagne.)

"Oh, that's Yuuri Katsuki. Japan's top male skater, but he's never made it past Four Continents, so you wouldn't have met him yet." Cao Bin lowers his voice before finishing, "Poor guy. We all thought this might be his year."

"Well, he made it to the Grand Prix Final," Victor points out. He doesn't even know where Yuuri placed, he realizes guiltily; he's been so focused on himself and his soulmate that he's barely paid attention to his competitors.

"Yeah. Hopefully he'll pull it together and make it to World's. Someone has to stop you Westerners from dominating the podium every year," Cao adds lightly, before his coach drags him off for photos to commemorate his last year in competition.

Oh, that's right-- Cao Bin is retiring this year. He's cited his age and the upcoming birth of his first child as the main reasons; competitive skating just demands so much, and there are other things he wants out of life now.

He's a year younger than Victor.

(Yuuri feels his soulmate looking at him a few more times, but he just can't deal with that tonight. As an excuse to not turn around, he chugs another glass until they go away.)

Victor doesn't think he can deal with this. He can't think about his competitors leaving, off to bigger and better things while he just... what will he do? What does he have, outside of skating? What can he fall back on, when his body or his heart or his inspiration gives out?

He's getting a bit lightheaded, a bit off-balance, and he belatedly realizes it might be his soulmate. He ducks off into the bathroom for a bit, music and happy albums at the ready, waiting for the oncoming attack... but it doesn't happen.

(Yuuri never noticed before, but this stuff actually tastes pretty good. He wonders if his soulmate has tried it... he hopes they're having a nice night... he drinks to their health.)

Victor feels a little warm. Between vapid conversations with people he sees twenty times a year but whose names he never remembers, he keeps waiting for something from his soulmate. After a while he realizes they're feeling better-- or at least, less miserable. Whatever had him so sad during the free skate, he's better now. That's... good. Victor is glad his sweetheart is improving, even if the cure this time was getting away from him.

Victor just wants his soulmate to be happy. This is a good thing.

One of the other coaches, an Italian, comes over to compliment Victor on his free skate. He loved the music especially, and he congratulates Victor on finding his soulmate. It's a very special kind of love, he says. Just like everyone does.

Victor thinks he might scream.

(Why did Yuuri want to stay in his hotel room, anyway? There's no drinks there. There's no music. There's no Victor Nikiforov, whose handsome face and perfectly-tailored suit is definitely not being ogled at by Yuuri. And there's no soulmate, who is so sad tonight. When Yuuri is not staring dumbly into his vanishing champagne, or longingly at his idol's hands or mouth or butt, he looks around the room wondering why his lovely hardworking soulmate is so lonely at this nice party. Is someone bothering them? Maybe Yuuri should do his duty for once and teach that someone a lesson. Are there any douchebags about?

Blinking slowly, his eyes land on that Russian punk who yelled at him in the bathroom.

Hm.)

After the uncharacteristic silence, Victor feels his soulmate glancing at him more and more as the night goes on, and for the first time he doesn't know what to think about it.

He still feels that affection, that admiration and longing, but he's no longer sure it's for him. What if he only ever liked the handsome celebrity? Who even _is_ Victor, outside of his career and his image? And who is his soulmate, besides a fan?

What if they meet, and the truth is nothing like what Victor's built up in his head? What if the reality of Victor, and everything he doesn't have, is nothing like what his soulmate wanted?

For more than ten years, Victor has devoted his life to someone he's never met. He's devoted it to this sport for more than twenty. And for what?

He's mulling over this, nodding along without listening or even knowing who's talking anymore, when he hears Yuri's unmistakable yelling, and the tinny sound of someone's phone speakers playing hip-hop music.

(Yuuri is dancing, and his soulmate is watching, and Yuuri is too appallingly drunk to be concerned about this.

Because Yuuri has been dancing since before he could walk, and the only time he can think clearly is when his heart is pounding to a beat. His rival skaters can dance too, of course, but Yuuri has studied with Minako Okukawa. He has studied with maybe twenty different professors in college alone. Yuuri has studied Victor Nikiforov, in the privacy of empty bedrooms and empty skating rinks. Yuuri was made for this-- Yuuri has spent a lifetime making himself for this.

He defeats the Russian Yuri with ease. Then JJ Leroy thinks he's hot shit, so Yuuri beats him in a dance-off, too. Then Other Yuri comes back for more punishment. Then some of the lady skaters get in on it, but Yuuri once spent an entire semester learning to twist his hips like Shakira, so that's another victory for him. Later Christophe Giacometti starts stripping, but Yuuri is a grown-ass mature adult man who won't be flustered by this sort of thing anymore, and he also spent _three_ semesters learning to pole-dance, so he defeats Christophe too.

At some point, Victor Nikiforov wants a go.

And shit, hasn't Yuuri's whole life been an effort to share a stage with this man? Yuuri's soulmate is still watching, and after all the shit they've been through, don't they deserve a show from the best dancer ever? Yes they do. So Yuuri takes another gulp directly from the champagne bottle, and tells Victor to pick the music.

For the rest of the blissfully forgotten night, Yuuri's soulmate doesn't look away.)

*

Victor's soulmate is looking at him again, looking at him and _happy_ , but Victor cannot focus on that.

His eyes are on Yuuri Katsuki, supposedly the sixth best skater in the world today, and that rank might be higher if he moved on the ice the way he's moving now. Yuuri is a work of art. No, he's an artist, painting a masterpiece with his body. Even Victor has to work to keep up, but it's the best kind of work. There's a thrill to creating something like this-- something spontaneous and unpolished, something just for the moment-- and it's been so long since Victor tuned out the audience that he forgot how much he loved to just forget about his worries and _dance_. His heart is pounding, his muscles burning, his jacket stifling him, but his mind is clear. He's spinning, with Yuuri's arm around his waist to keep him steady, and every dip and twirl is lifting a weight from his soul that's been there so long he stopped noticing it.

Their third song ends with Victor nearly on the ground, pointing his toe in the air and trusting his weight entirely to Yuuri's hold. Yuuri smiles down at him, and he looks like a different person-- grinning triumphantly, face flushed with drink and exertion, glasses off and his beautiful dark eyes so close that Victor can count the different shades of brown.

They hold the pose, one of their audience whistles appreciatively, and Victor's not sure who started laughing first, but there they are, and Yuuri leans forward like he might kiss him.

There is a split-second when Victor almost pushes him away in a panic-- he has a soulmate, he shouldn't be doing this when their connection is so powerful that he might as well be married already-- but Yuuri just sinks to his knees, his forehead falling onto Victor's chest as he shakes with drunken giggles. Somehow he doesn't let Victor fall.

"Good show, huh?" Yuuri wheezes, his breath and his hair tickling through Victor's shirt. "Yeah. They like it." He lurches backward, dragging Victor up onto his feet.

Victor dizzily agrees, trying to keep upright as he steers his new friend away from the dance floor. JJ has brought his girlfriend over for an attempt to out-tango them, but most of their competitors are still watching Victor and Yuuri, clapping. "The audience loves you," Victor says, breathless.

But Yuuri shakes his head, casually leaning against him, one arm still snug around his lower back. "Not me. 'm a mess. But I made 'em happy tonight, finally." He nuzzles Victor's shoulder, as if they've known each other ten years and not ten minutes. The strangest thing is that Victor doesn't mind. "Thank you."

Victor has a soulmate. He has someone. He is committed already. He shouldn't be letting some strange man cuddle him in public and squeeze his heart like this-- what if Victor's future husband sees, and think they're not meant for each other? What if he's disappointed when he thinks Victor didn't wait for him? But Yuuri is drunk and tired and he smells so nice, and his touch makes Victor feel warm and tingly all over, makes his muscles feel loose and his heart flutter pleasantly in his throat. Victor hasn't had an honest-to-god crush in so long, and his soulmate isn't looking right now anyway--

"My soulmate's watching," Yuuri whispers into Victor's jacket as they watch the couple on the dance floor, in what was probably supposed to be a conspiratorial tone.

"Oh yeah?" Victor asks, trying to ignore the sudden lurch in his stomach. "That's so sweet of them, coming all the way to Russia for you--"

"No, no." Yuuri shakes his head, squeezing Victor tighter. He might fall over if Victor pushes him off, so he lets him stay. "Noooo. Not me. They don't care 'bout my skating 'cuz it sucks. But they're lookin' now." He grins up at Victor, who feels his own soulmate's eyes again. "They're lookin' at us even though we're not dancin'. I bet they like you!" Yuuri's face lights up at the idea, his free hand tugging at Victor's jacket, right over his heart. "No, they love you! Any soulmate a'mine has to!"

"Oi, crybaby!" Yuri Plisetsky appears by their side, grabbing Japanese Yuuri by his arm and yanking him back toward the dancefloor. "Rematch!"

Yuuri laughs, his hand sliding down to grip Victor's. He gives Victor one last overbright smile, and his hand a gentle squeeze, before returning to the dance floor.

Victor ignores the tiny, accusing ping of his own soulmate-sense. He's too busy watching Yuuri, laughing and snapping more photos, admiring Yuuri's body while reeling over his words. Did he mean to imply that his soulmate does not support his career? Did his own soulmate-- his partner-- actually tell him that his skating sucks? Who would say that to someone they're supposed to love?

That must be why he looked so miserable tonight, why he's getting wasted on champagne and dancing with strangers. Hell, it's probably why he wasn't on the podium with Victor, despite his obvious talent. And here Victor has been spending all this time feeling sorry for himself, just because he thinks rejection might happen-- he can't imagine how he'd feel if his soulmate treated him like--

"Victooooor!" Yuuri whines, stumbling over to him mid-song, amid shouts of protest from his current opponent. "They're sad again, Victor!" And he starts leading Victor into the dance again, lifting him right up in the air and spinning him around until the world's askew and his worries are lost in a haze of music and laughter.

At some point during the night-- probably while Yuuri is half-naked and holding himself off a pole with just his thighs, bending backward and looking at Victor upside-down, holding a hand out towards him as if the entire show is for his eyes alone--

Or when it's Christophe's turn on the pole, and Yuuri cheers him on with everyone else, until he can't sit still anymore and they mount up together, twisting their bodies into new and impossible shapes, looking at Victor's camera lens more than anyone else's--

Or when Victor teasingly offers them a couple of hundred-ruble notes as a tip, and Yuuri smirks, grabs his whole hand, and kisses the soft part of Victor's wrist, before taking the bills and stuffing into the waistband of his underwear, while Victor bites the inside of his cheek and tries not to have an existential crisis--

Or maybe it's not any one moment, but all of them, maybe it's the feeling of connection after all these years of waiting and hoping and trying to survive on dreams alone, that makes Victor decide, _fuck_ soulmates.

Yuuri's does not support his skating, and therefore cannot possibly appreciate the curve of his spine, the strength of his limbs, or the sound of his voice more than Victor does in this moment. Victor's soulmate might look at him all the time, but they've never danced with him, never smiled at him like this, never pulled him close and murmured lovingly that he's so hot and so sweet and so much better in real life.

And yeah, Victor thinks giddily, he kind of prefers the real person in front of him to all those anonymous echoes.

It isn't until later-- after the collective efforts of seven ISU officials and three coaches have barred access to champagne bottles and metal poles and any electronic device that can play music or take pictures-- when Victor's world turns on its head.

"They're still heeeere," Yuuri sings to no one in particular. He's barely able to hold himself up anymore. Victor offers him a hand for support, and Yuuri just grins and falls on him, arms tight around his middle, face pressed tight against his chest. Victor feels his soulmate look at him, then look away. Then there's a surge of bubbly affection and all-over heat and more of that loose clumsiness-- and some of the dizziness and euphoria have been coming from _him_ , Victor realizes. His soulmate is off having a wonderful night.

Victor should be happy for them. Instead, he's annoyed that he can't just have one experience to himself, can't just share this night with the amazing person in front of him. Then he remembers what Yuuri said earlier, about his own soulmate being so terrible to him.

"Who's your soulmate?" Victor asks his new best friend. Yuuri must be unhappy in order to act like this after his first Grand Prix Final. Victor thinks he'll have a few words with this soulmate of his, about how to behave when the universe hands them such a treasure. "Just point them out, and I'll--"

But Yuuri giggles, shaking with it like Victor's just told the funniest joke he's heard all night. "Dunno!" he says cheerfully. "Never met 'em!"

Victor blinks. "You haven't..." Victor thinks back, trying to recall exactly what Yuuri said and how-- and he's a little shaky on the night's order of events, everything blurring together in a tipsy haze-- and then Victor understands that this pleasantly off-balance feeling he's had all night is from _alcohol_ , even though he's barely had a glass. His soulmate has been drinking, and their bond is strong enough for him to feel it.

Victor looks down at the completely sauced man currently pressed against his front, and an absurd thought occurs to him.

Yuuri's soulmate has not noticed his skating, but they're happy when he dances with Victor. Yuuri has not met his soulmate yet, but they're here, and they've been watching this whole night-- Victor looks around, and everyone is staring at them, because Yuuri still has no pants on and he's dry-humping his competitor's hip-- it could be anyone at all--

"I gotta get better," Yuuri says, with all the intensity of the incredibly drunk. "I gotta... _make_ 'em notice me."

Victor's head is spinning. No way. There's no way... "Well, if you need any-- ah, advice--"

Yuuri squeezes him tighter. "Victorrr," he slurs, still grinding his hips, "my family owns a hot springs. When the season's over you should come visit." Before Victor can stammer a response, Yuuri looks up, eyes practically _glowing_ , and Victor feels the full force of his soulmate's gaze.

"If I win the dance off, you come back to Hasetsu and be my coach! You'll do it, won't you, Victor? Be my coach!" And he throws his arms around Victor's neck, Victor's soulmate looking away just as Yuuri's face crosses over his shoulder-- Yuuri is pressing their chests together-- and Victor, trembling, lifts a hand to check his heartbeat-- and-- and--

*

Victor is twenty-seven. He's found his soulmate, he's fallen in love, and it might be the worst thing that's ever happened to him.

After the banquet, Victor did not get a wink of sleep. He spent the entire night glued to his phone, greedily hunting down every recording of every program Yuuri Katsuki has ever skated and watching them over and over until his eyes burned. He was still at it when his alarm went off, and when Yakov yelled at him that he needed to get out the door right now or they were all going to miss their flight. Victor threw his things in his bag without looking, his sweaty free skate costume crammed right in with his favorite silk shirt and his half-open toothpaste, and he kept watching videos and looking up info until Aeroflot made them all turn off wifi.

Victor resumed his hyper-focus when he got back to his own apartment, where Yakov and company could not judge him for it.

Since then, Victor has learned a few things. For one, while Yuuri might be a great skater, he is an _incredible_ dancer-- which of course he is, no one at the banquet could doubt that-- and he focuses more on telling a story with his programs than on loading them up with quads. Sure, his technical scores are shaky, and sometimes his nerves hold him back in competition, but the potential is there, the artistry, and that's something you can't always teach. If he's having a good day, his PCS is untouchable, and with his apparent stamina his technical could be much, much higher. Victor wants to see what he'd look like with a clean skate, a clear mind, and a program that actually supports his strengths.

He has learned that Yuuri is a full-time college student as well as a skater, and Victor remembers all his soulmate's hard work over the years. Yuuri is from a small town in Japan and has lived in the U.S. for five years, and Victor could cry at how obvious it should have been when he looks back over his notes and sees how old Yuuri was when _this_ happened, or where he was in the world when his schedule was like _that_.

Victor still does not know what has caused Yuuri so much pain over the years, but in spite of that Yuuri has accomplished so much more than Victor could have expected, and he is so, so proud. Victor knew his soulmate was a fan, but the fact that he really is a fellow skater-- the fact that he's specifically cited Victor as an inspiration-- oh, god, Victor could cry. He does, when he finds an old Instagram post from Yuuri's friend, and there's an old poster of Victor in the background.

Victor's soulmate is no longer a mysterious collection of feelings and a racing heartbeat, but a real human being. He's not just a fan, he's a fellow professional, and he actually knows what he's talking about when he admires Victor's work. Yuuri is the first person Victor's ever met that made him want to forget about his destiny, and Yuuri _is_ his destiny. Victor's had a lifetime to fantasize, and yet Yuuri is so much more talented and beautiful and amazing than Victor ever dreamed...

...and Yuuri doesn't want him.

He has Victor's number. Victor made sure of that, after the banquet. He even signed it "your soulmate <3 <3 <3" so they were on the same page.

Victor follows Yuuri on Instagram and Twitter. He has sent him multiple messages on both social media accounts, asking if he was serious about the coaching thing. No response, and no new posts either.

Victor even hunted down an email address and contacted him there. No reply.

And sure, it's... it's possible that the email went to spam. It's possible that Yuuri lost his number. It's possible that Yuuri just isn't that active online. But...

But it's been _weeks_ now, and Victor hasn't heard a word. Not so much as a "good job" after he won the Russian Nationals, even though he knows Yuuri was awake at some absurd hour to watch them live, when he should have been resting for his own competition. Not a word after the Japanese Nationals, which Victor dutifully watched, though it pained them both every time Yuuri flubbed a jump; not a word after Victor very publicly vague-tweeted his concern about athletes who neglect their health before a competition and then cannot perform at their best.

It's been weeks, and Victor is almost pathetic enough to start pestering Yuuri's coach, or rinkmates... he does have that one who's active on Instagram, but at this point it seems weird to start systematically liking every photo of Yuuri... and then he sees that Yuuri is leaving Detroit, that his friend is so proud of him for graduating but will miss him next season, and...

And Victor waits and waits, but he doesn't think Yuuri is very proud of himself for finishing his undergrad. All he feels from Yuuri is stress during (presumably) his final exams, and an overall aching sadness... or maybe that's coming from Victor.

He still feels Yuuri looking at him at certain hours of morning and night; Victor wonders how many posters he really has. Maybe that's it, maybe Yuuri prefers Victor as a distant celebrity. Victor knows that Yuuri loves his skating, but maybe that's all he wants from him. Maybe that's all anyone ever wanted from him.

At the World Championships, Victor skates Stammi Vicino for the last time-- stay close to me, he begs with every spin and reach of his arms, don't go-- and Yuuri isn't watching him. I'm afraid of losing you, he confesses, and his soulmate doesn't hear.

Victor wins his fifth consecutive World Championship, scores a personal best and breaks the world record with his free skate. Yuuri isn't there.

Victor kisses his gold medal, smiles mechanically at the cameras, poses for the crowd as he always does. Yuuri isn't watching.

Victor doesn't know if he can do this anymore.

*

Victor is in bed when it happens.

It's almost midday in Japan, which means it is very, very early in St. Petersburg. Yuuri's spike of anxiety is so sudden and strong that it jolts Victor awake, and he later feels very guilty that his first thought is, "what is it _this_ time?"

Yuuri remains distressed for a few minutes, but he's gotten pretty good at calming himself over the years, so Victor is able to get back to sleep for a couple hours. He still wakes up tired-- or maybe that's just his life now, perpetually running on half a tank at best-- and he feeds Makkachin and makes coffee before finally pulling out his phone to deal with the world.

His texts and email and social media accounts are all blowing up. Everyone wants him to watch a video. He sighs, finishes breakfast, and settles on the couch before doing what he's told and opening the link.

_[Yuuri Katsuki] tries to skate Victor Nikiforov's program [Stay Close To Me]_

Later, Victor will point out that he did have a plan here, that he knew Yuuri needed a coach and was simply taking him up on the request. He will claim that he needed a break (which he does), that he needed inspiration (also yes), that he wanted to see a bit of the world without just passing through for a competition. He will point out that Yuuri just skated a record-setting program while overweight and on limited free time; he will tell everyone that the skating world was being deprived of a great talent and as a leader in that world, Victor simply could not let this continue. He will have a thousand reasons why this was the right decision, quite apart from any personal connection they might have had.

The truth, however, is that there was no decision. One moment Victor is on the couch staring at his phone, and the next, he has his computer and credit card out, a one-way plane ticket purchased, tears rolling down his face. He's smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt.

Victor is twenty-seven, and for the first time, he knows exactly what his soulmate needs him to be.


	2. Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooooooo boy. Well. This took a while longer than expected! Thanks so much for waiting!
> 
> I originally planned for the whole fic to be in the format of the first chapter, except this would be primarily from Yuuri's point of view with Victor in the parentheses. I also planned for the whole thing to be, like, three chapters total. And I planned for this one to cover way more of the canon timeline, without going into too much detail on any one thing. And Yurio wasn't supposed to do much.
> 
> APPARENTLY, the characters had other plans.

Yuuri Katsuki has never really wanted to find his soulmate.

There are so many reasons he doesn't deserve one. He's lazy, gluttonous, cowardly, utterly inept at anything social, and somehow constantly overestimating himself despite a total lack of confidence and many, many past failures. Worst of all, he's selfish: he neglects the people who love him, he accepts their support when he knows they're wasting their time, and he keeps throwing himself into a career that causes him so much pain when he knows there will be collateral damage.

Somewhere out there is a person who shares Yuuri's heartbeat. Somewhere, probably half a world away, is a person who gets no rest unless Yuuri allows it, who gets secondhand exhaustion every time Yuuri pushes his body to its limit, who gets to suffer every time Yuuri exposes himself to things that stress him out-- things like deadlines, restrictive diets, performing before a crowd.

He's tried to avoid thinking about them over the years, but that's a lot harder now that they're always in his head, watching him, calling out to him with a voice that only he can hear.

Something happened in Sochi, the night after the free skate. He knows that they barely glanced at his skating, but he must have done something to get their attention, because ever since the competition ended they've hardly looked away. He can only conclude that they're curious about Japan's Disappointment-- and he's certainly disappointed them, too, since he can feel their heart aching more and more with each passing day.

Somewhere, Yuuri's soulmate is reaching out to him. Somewhere, Yuuri's soulmate is miserable. He knows they would be better off if he retired. Plenty of people would.

He thinks of this as he packs up for the move back to Japan. His diploma goes right into the suitcase with his extra skates and some rolled-up clothes. He gives the place one last check before turning in the keys: the walls are clean, the college-issued furniture bare, the various bits and pieces of his life sealed away until the tiny room bears no trace of the past few months-- just like the dorm he'd been in last year, and each year before that, and all the hotel rooms he's slept in over the brief and inconsistent years of his career.

It's like the ice, he thinks, once the Zamboni passes over all the little scratches and holes, wiping away the memory of the last performance. He wonders if people's minds can work the same way, if he'll just fade from memory once he's gone. Victor Nikiforov said in an interview once that he approaches each program as a new beginning; maybe that's why.

In the elevator down to return his keys, Yuuri sighs to himself. No; he knows Victor is different. Victor's performances are stories, things that leave a mark on one's heart well after they're done, as much as a good book or movie. Victor is no dime-a-dozen athlete; he's a master storyteller, crafting a new language with his body and teaching Yuuri how to speak it. Maybe that's why it's been so comforting to copy him again-- like getting advice from an old friend.

He thinks of this during the long journey home: he listens to Stammi Vicino in the car to the airport, sleeps on the plane and dreams of Victor dancing, absently traces Victor's step sequences on his thigh as he stares out the window of the train.

Yuuri feels his soulmate's eyes again a couple times that afternoon, as if to remind him of the life he could have if he just decides to do the unselfish thing and give up this impossible dream. But the television in Yu-Topia's dining room is showing the figure skating World Championships, lingering on a clip of Victor. He's going over his free skate, stretching his arms mournfully, calling out to an invisible partner. Not for the first time this season, the announcer speculates that Victor might retire soon, and Yuuri knows his decision is already made.

He goes into his bedroom to get his skates, twenty different Victors looking down on him, calling him back to the ice. He jogs to his childhood rink, greets his oldest friend, and steps onto that dark and private stage to tell her the same story that Victor is sharing with the world, thousands of miles away.

Some say your soulmate is supposed to be the one you admire most, but Yuuri could search the whole world and he won't find anyone like Victor. His soulmate will just have to wait.

Because Yuuri can only think clearly when he's in motion, can only communicate properly through steps and spins. He isn't ready to give that up. And he isn't ready to give up the hope that he can be better than he is.

All he knows how to say right now is, _I want to skate on the same ice as Victor Nikiforov_.

It's something he can only say to himself, and maybe to Yuuko, who has known this about him since he was small. He would never want to announce it to the world-- at least, not yet, not like this. But the next morning, he wakes up to a frantic call from the Nishigori household-- and he will remember later that one moment, he was lying safe and alone in bed, and the next--

The next moment, he is watching in horror as his heart's deepest desire is broadcast to the entire world, like he whispered a secret only to find that it was into a megaphone, and the message is out there, loud and clear, and the  _next_ moment--

The next moment, Victor Nikiforov is _here_. Victor Nikiforov, the real person, not a poster or a screenshot or a distant mythical figure who guides Yuuri's ambitions like a lighthouse in the distance-- no, he's an actual flesh-and-blood human being, and he's standing up and reaching out to Yuuri, _in the bath_ , offering to be his coach, _naked_ , telling Yuuri he's going to make the GPF again and win, _with his dick out and everything_ , and Yuuri--

Yuuri just _screams_.

And Victor just-- he just keeps acting like this is all perfectly natural, that he should show up here after that one video-- as if Yuuri, _Yuuri_ , could have inspired him so much in those few minutes that it was only logical for Victor pack up his whole life and deposit it in Yuuri's living room. As if it makes perfect sense that one week ago Yuuri was only skating to comfort himself and now _Victor Nikiforov_ , in the flesh, is eating his mother's cooking, sleeping on his floor, moving himself and his dog and his whole wardrobe into the room right down the hall, sitting really close and _touching Yuuri's face_ \--

And Yuuri's heart has not stopped jackhammering against his ribs since the day that video was posted, his mind has not stopped racing, and he knows he's a horrible selfish person because he will not give this up. He will not tell Victor he should go back to Russia and spend his time on someone worthy. He will not get some distance and try to relax for his soulmate's sake.

That first night as he lies down to sleep, he's so overcome with all he's feeling that he has to smother his face in his pillow, lest he start crying or giggling or maybe both.

*

Down the hall, the gravity of what Victor's done is starting to sink in. He's thrown away his career and uprooted his entire life-- broken the trust of his coach and his sponsors and possibly destroyed all his business relationships beyond repair-- all to chase down a cute boy he met at a party. Yuuri clearly hasn't told anyone they're soulmates, and Victor hasn't either-- and he's glad that he hasn't, because Yuuri wriggles away from him with such terror in his eyes that Victor thinks that maybe he should just leave.

But how can he, after all this? He can't go home-- Yuuri is his soulmate. This foreign place where no one speaks his language and he always seems to be saying or doing the wrong thing, this is supposed to be home.

And even if he did go back, it would only be to wait for the inevitable: Victor is twenty-seven, and Makkachin is fourteen. Soon, maybe this year or next, his career will be over. His only family will be gone. His soulmate is all he has left to hold onto.

When Victor lies down to sleep that first night, he scrolls through all the banquet photos, just to reassure himself that it wasn't a dream. After he's seen them all at least three times, he sets the phone down and pulls the covers up, thinking back to the things Yuuri said about his soulmate back then, the way Yuuri's heart has been aching every day since they met.

Really, this is probably all Victor's fault. Yuuri's been there for him since day one, watching and supporting him through his whole career, but Victor didn't even take the invitation to come home with him until Yuuri broadcast Stay Close To Me over the whole internet. Maybe Yuuri's rejection is just what Victor deserves, for not being there when Yuuri needed him.

Victor's heart is beating so hard it feels like it's going to crack his ribs. He holds Makkachin close and smothers his face in the curly brown fur, trying not to cry too loudly or for too long. It'll make Yuuri cry too, and hasn't he suffered enough? Victor has to do better. He has to _be_ better.

He can't give up. He has nowhere else to go.

*

Victor Nikiforov is a force of nature, and it's all Yuuri can do to keep up.

He seems to be constantly active; when he's not dragging Yuuri to the ninja house or the beach or the latest tourist attraction he's found, he might be found skating, or playing with his dog, or eating everything in sight-- _and where the hell does he put it all_ , Yuuri would bitterly like to know-- and through all of it, he sticks to Yuuri's side.

He wants introductions to everyone in Yuuri's life. He keeps asking Yuuri about himself and his past, about Japan and Hasetsu and the onsen. He wants tours and translations and opinions. He orders Yuuri to drop the weight, nagging and teasing and happily inviting himself along for every workout and meal. And he keeps staring, watching Yuuri like he's trying to puzzle him out, like he's never seen anything so fascinating.

He asks once or twice about Yuuri's soulmate. Yuuri does his best to shut that topic down, knowing that the man who broke world records with a love ballad would not be impressed by the fact that Yuuri barely even registers his own partner anymore. How could he feel their eyes, when _Victor Nikiforov_ is staring at the same time? How could he take note of their emotions, when his own are bursting out of him? Victor might as well be asking him to point out a lightbulb when he's right next to the sun.

Overwhelmed and embarrassed at his own fanboying, trying not to ogle or pry right back, Yuuri dodges the personal questions. He just tries to do what Victor asks, tries to perform to his exacting standards. He's not quite sure what Victor wants from him beyond that, but he's spent about half his life trying to reach this man, so he'll give it everything he has.

*

Victor feels like he's been tossed out onto the open ocean, and it's all he can do to keep afloat.

Yuuri _asked_ Victor to come, called out to him in the clearest way possible, yet he still seems shocked that Victor actually showed up. He asked for a coach, but is in no way ready for training. He seduced Victor completely, but when Victor tries to flirt back, when Victor tries to show he can be fun and sexy too, all the suggestive poses and teasing winks are brushed off, as if Yuuri can see right through it and know that he's never even been kissed.

Though the soulmate connection, he knows that Yuuri is staring just as much as he is, making it very difficult for Victor to make up for the disparity in how much Yuuri's watched and supported him over the years. But whenever Victor catches him looking, Yuuri immediately tries to pretend he wasn't. He was so free with affection before, but now-- in the light of day, without the haze of alcohol, facing the reality of Victor as a person instead of the mystique of him as a skater-- all those loving gazes and squeezing hugs are gone. When Victor tries to touch him, Yuuri flinches away, and the accompanying jolt of fear is enough to break Victor's heart all over again.

And yet, somehow... Yuuri is mostly happy. He's uncomfortable, but Victor can feel the echo of Yuuri's joy when Victor praises him, his contentedness when they settle down to a meal together, the small thrill when Victor says he likes the town, or the hot springs, or the food. Yuuri _wants_ Victor here, and there are apparently things Victor does that he doesn't hate, but he's been here for days and he still can't figure out what Yuuri needs him to be.

Victor has been performing all his life, but even he has trouble meeting Yuuri's standards.

*

Yuuri does get a chance to do the honest thing and set Victor free, sooner than he would have expected.

Yuri Plisetsky barges into Hasetsu with the same destructive force that Victor did, upending the entire inn as he shoves himself into a place there, alternately demanding space and attention and food. The whole thing makes Victor laugh, like this is perfectly normal behavior. Yuuri's family is just as charmed, of course: they happily make a place for him at the table, Yuuko and Mari practically adopt him, the Nishigori girls and Minako take up the work of event-planning for Onsen On Ice with a terrifying zeal.

Yuuri, meanwhile, feels like he's being tossed about in a typhoon, and he doesn't find clarity until the moment Victor is presenting the musical assignments to them-- and _Eros, really?!_  He couldn't do that, he's not seductive, he's never even kissed anyone-- and Yurio says that if he wins, Victor goes back to Russia.

And Yuuri knows that's for the best, for Victor and both their soulmates and everyone.

But Yuuri also knows that he's a selfish asshole and a terrible person, and despite everything, he's not ready to give this up. Not Victor's attention, not his smiles, not his torturous little touches that make Yuuri's heart stutter and break and hammer itself into something new, something that feels things it never could before.

So he'll skate Eros. He'll give it all the Eros he's got.

*

Victor knows so many different ways to perform, and he has spent so much of his life doing it, that the only time he can communicate honestly is when he's on stage.

Maybe it's the distance that helps; on the ice, he's all alone, and he doesn't have to deal with anyone's reaction until he's finished. Maybe it's easier to explain his feelings when he can filter them through music and metaphor. Or maybe he's just moving too fast to filter things at all.

He thought that both Yuris might understand this. Yurio is just as self-protective as Victor, though he uses anger as his mask instead of smiles. When he skates, the rage and determination is more honest, his hunger for victory and willingness to work for it more apparent. Victor thought maybe giving him something else to be honest about, some other feeling to express, might help him. Victor remembers being that age.

Fifteen-year-old Victor was a prodigy too. Younger than everyone at the rink and with no friends his own age, he was the only person he knew without a soulmate. Fifteen-year-old Victor had been desperate for love, for agape, in ways he didn't even understand yet. He would have loved this program.

But Yurio refuses to open himself to it. "You're still not conveying the right emotion," Victor laments, as Yurio raises his clenched fists in the final pose, scowling.

"Then how about you act like a coach and explain what I'm supposed to be doing!" Yurio snaps. "What the fuck is agape supposed to mean, anyway? What's the story here?"

On Love: Agape is something Victor came up with about six weeks ago, at two in the morning when he was four drinks in on a night of deep existential despair. The story is about someone who's never been loved unconditionally, who's never experienced uncomplicated affection, but who still holds out hope in the face of ever-worsening odds that he might find it someday. In the beginning, the skater should look up with a sigh, melt into the music like he's falling asleep. The movements should all be gentle and dreamy, with only a hint of desperation, as he imagines what that love would feel like. This version has a focus on spins as an expression of the protagonist's desire, the punctuation of his agony. The final pose, when he offers his heart to the heavens, should be like a prayer; it should be a display of vulnerability; it should be a plea that he would do anything, _anything_ , if only someone would love him.

Now, Victor smiles at his young student. "It's an emotion, so why bother trying to put it into words?"

Yurio only gets more frustrated, of course. But how will he ever grow as a skater if he doesn't learn basic artistic interpretation like this? He needs to find his own meaning for agape. So Victor banishes him to temples and waterfalls while he coordinates the ice show. After all, sometimes it's only in solitude that one can really appreciate other people.

But then Victor has to deal with Yuuri, who is somehow even more impossible.

Unlike the mournful Agape, On Love: Eros was something that Victor came up with in a caffeine-fueled frenzy just days after the last Grand Prix Final. The story has gone through a few different iterations, some more fantastical, but the basic concept remains the same. The protagonist has always desired eros, but it's been less a desperate yearning than a slow burn in the back of his mind, something he never really thinks about, until one day-- he meets someone. The music stops, the world narrows to just the two of them, and then the seduction begins: staccato, teasing step sequences paired with graceful, beckoning arms; hands running over his body like whispered promises; ever-tightening spins as he's bound up. The jumps are all toward the end, when his body is at its limit and his better judgement has been thoroughly drowned out by the ecstasy of the dance. While Agape ends with a sigh, Eros ends with a gasp, with arms around him not to embrace but to ensnare.

Victor only wishes that Yuuri could have seen him do this properly, in costume, when it's just the two of them. The story is about them, after all-- the Victor that only his soulmate knows, and the man who can make him feel things that he never has before.

"Think about what eros means to you," Victor tells him. Whatever that is, Victor can become--

"Katsudon!" Yuuri declares passionately one night. "That's what eros is to me!"

Victor needs a drink.

*

There's something missing, Yuuri thinks in frustration. Onsen on Ice looms ever closer, and Yuuri still feels like he's running through the motions of a dance he doesn't understand-- like he's singing a song in a language he doesn't speak, replicating sounds without knowing what they mean. Maybe if he did his own version of eros, tried to speak his own desires and express what _he_ finds sexy--

No, he scolds himself. That isn't to be considered. Victor is a real goddamn person who's staying in his house, not some celebrity fantasy anymore-- and they both have soulmates to think about. And besides, any program expressing Yuuri's "true eros" would be completely different, more desperate and longing, maybe with more speed in the step sequence, and the music would be--

No, no, what is he doing? Does he actually think he could choreograph something better than Victor Nikiforov? Just who does Yuuri think he is?

And there's the problem: he's not Victor Nikiforov. He's not some king of the dancefloor who can just waltz into town and make everyone swoon with a smile and a wink. He can't seduce the world with his body in under three minutes. He's not handsome or charming or confident enough to be a playboy.

Practice only makes him feel worse, as he mechanically runs through the choreography. He can see his inadequacy in the tensed line of Victor's mouth, can hear it in the way Victor critiques his spins. He's still lacking the answer when, less than twenty-four hours before the competition, the question of costumes is brought up.

As always, Victor delivers. If nothing else, Yuuri thinks, he will have gotten to do this: running his fingers over the treasure trove before him, these masterpieces that he grew up admiring. He doesn't even think of katsudon as he paws hungrily through the fabric, starting from the very beginning up until--

Oh.

In his hands is the shimmering black ensemble that Yuuri first saw Victor in, all those years ago. He remembers the way the crystals caught the light, the way the half-skirt flared, the way the fabric seams drew the eye in towards that slim waist, those powerful hips and long, graceful limbs.

Mari once called that routine _Yuuri's bisexual awakening_. She hadn't exactly been wrong.

"This one," Yuuri says now, holding the costume reverently. This is what eros means to him.

It's the first part of the breakthrough, and when they're about to say goodnight, Yurio grants him the rest.

"Get ready to lose tomorrow, piggy," he says, while Yuuri tries very hard to ignore the mental image of a kitten puffing out its fur to look large and intimidating. "I'm going to crush you so hard that Victor won't even remember why he came here."

Yuuri joins Victor in cheerfully wishing him good luck, but his heart skips a beat. That's right: Victor came here for him.

"You should get some rest too," Victor tells Yuuri, eyeing him and angling his head toward his own room. "You know, if you're nervous, as your coach I should--"

"That won't be necessary," Yuuri says quickly, sleep the furthest thing from his mind. "Goodnight!"

A few minutes has Yuuri out the door, running to Minako, his mind racing. Finally, finally he knows what he's been missing.

He's not Victor Nikiforov, but Victor Nikiforov came here for him. He's the one who made Victor fly halfway around the world; he's the one that Victor chose to coach, the one who gets to feel the brush of Victor's fingers on his skin, the one who gets to bask in the glow of Victor's attention. Yuuri's no playboy, and he can't seduce a whole stadium, but he can get the one man that everyone wants.

With less than twelve hours before the competition, he faces Minako-sensei.

"Teach me how to move like a woman."

*

There's something that Victor is missing. It keeps him up most of the night before Onsen on Ice, ruins his appetite for breakfast, has him nervously chewing on his lip as the two Yuris prepare for the show.

The thing is, Victor knows that no one really wants him back in Russia. His rinkmates will be happy to be out of his shadow, Yakov will be happy to focus on someone else for a change, and absolutely no one wants to see Victor perform when he feels the way he's been feeling this year. Maybe they don't realize it yet, but Victor knows that most people will agree with his choice in the end.

Yuuri, though? He's not so sure.

An anxious guy, Yuuko had called him. A pretty sore loser. Victor thought he understood-- they're soulmates, after all, and Victor has a competitive streak too-- but nerves alone can't explain the entire sleepless night before the competition, or the way Yuuri is fidgeting now, the ball of tension embedding itself so firmly in his chest that Victor can feel it in his own.

Why is Yuuri so distressed? Why does his heart so often feel like it's going to give out? Victor used to think his soulmate had some kind of medical issue, but it wouldn't be possible to get as far as Yuuri has if his body were not in peak condition. And mere nerves can't explain the intensity of what Victor's felt over the years.

Still, he tries not to panic. Yuuri won't lose. For all Yurio's raw athletic talent, it's just not enough to close the gaps in experience, stamina or artistry. If Yuuri really wants Victor to stay, he can make that happen. And for all Yuuri's lack of confidence, he's not stupid; he should know the odds as well as Victor does.

Yuuri won't lose... unless he wants to.

And oh, god, Victor is still terrified that he does. Yurio steps out onto the ice first, and-- he's good. Better than he's ever been. And Victor is happy for him, really. He does mean it when he says it's Yurio's best performance so far, and he hopes his voice doesn't sound strained.

But this means Yuuri will actually have to try, and...

And Yuuri is hunched over in his costume, clutching his head, breathing erratic. Suddenly Victor sees his own panic in a new light. "Yuuri?" he calls softly.

Yuuri jolts up, looking like he might be sick. With his skates on, he and Victor are about the same height. It would be so easy to tug his hands away and kiss him, and this might be the last chance they have--

And Yuuri is talking about katsudon again. He asks Victor to watch, and--

And Yuuri closes the gap between them, his trembling arms around Victor's shoulders.

Victor's throat feels a bit funny. This is different from the loose-limbed, boozy hugs of the banquet, and different from all the tentative flirty touches that Victor's learned to stop attempting. It's more like the hugs he's given Yakov, in the Kiss and Cry when he needed support more than a lecture.

He wonders, briefly, if Yakov would still let him do that.

For now, he promises Yuuri that he'll watch. "I love katsudon," he says, not sure if Yuuri wants to hear anything else.

Over his shoulder, Yuuri takes a small, shaky breath. His arms tighten just a little, and their thudding hearts slow down. Yuuri holds him a second more before pulling away, nodding, and stepping out onto the ice.

Victor's not sure what just happened.

*

Yuuri's soulmate is watching him. Again. The way their eyes follow him says that they're most likely here in person, in this small crowd of reporters and skating fans that have followed Russia's champions to some tiny seaside town in Japan-- or maybe they came for him. Either way, Yuuri's soulmate is close, probably closer than they've ever been.

The thing is, Yuuri doesn't care. He knows who he's skating for.

He glides out to the center of the rink, settles his blades on the ice that raised him. He shifts his weight to one hip, imagining the woman of his story, the lady so beautiful that men cross oceans to find her.

The strum of a guitar fills the room, and the lady moves. She snaps her head to the side, finds that blur of silver, and smirks, knowing she can have the most gorgeous man in the world at her feet.

She dances.

She knows that he's watching-- that playboy who knows the game so well. His eyes drink in the fluid grace of her arms, the knowing sway of her hips, the seductive surety of her every step. The rest of the world watches too, envious at first, but as she moves, they find themselves drawn in too. Her every movement commands it.

A brief step out of a quad-Salchow-- _don't panic_ \-- her charms can't be denied so easily.

She saves the best for last, knowing she has them all under her spell. Onto her knees, she shows her playboy exactly where she wants him; with a jump, a spin, and a final embrace, she yanks him close, telling the rest of the world how things are going to be. He wouldn't dare leave her.

All around, the crowd erupts.

*

The crowd is screaming, the commentator is shouting over the loudspeakers, but it's all in Japanese. The only words Victor can understand are _Yuuri, Katsuki Yuuri, Yuuri-kun_.

"Yuuri!"

Yuuri turns away from waving at the crowd-- and Victor would swear he can feel the way Yuuri's eyes light up when they meet his, the way his heart flutters as he skates over. Both their hearts, that is.

Victor can't help it; he hugs Yuuri's shoulders, tells him that was the tastiest katsudon he's ever seen. Yuuri is a little stiff in his arms, but it's not a rejection-- he thanks Victor, a little breathlessly, and when they pull back, Yuuri's beautiful brown eyes are sparkling with hope.

Honestly, what was Victor so worried about? Yuuri is strong, much stronger than he looks, and he's wanted Victor here with him for about eleven years now. Victor, of all people, should know that.

So he should be fine with Victor giving him performance notes immediately. Victor's here to coach, after all.

Yuuri's only just stopped pouting over the critique when one of the event staff hurries over to them, whispering in frantic Japanese, making Yuuri's brow furrow again.

Catching Victor's eye, he explains: "They want to get podium pictures, but no one can find Yurio."

"Oh, he left." Yuuko, Yuuri's friend who works at the rink, shrugs. "He said he knew the results already, so he went home."

Now it's Victor's turn to frown. Was Yurio really that much of a sore loser that he'd just leave Yuuri up on the podium alone? He'd have to have a talk with him later, maybe call Yakov--

But Yuuri sighs. "It's fine," he says, glancing at Victor. "If anyone asks, just say something came up. It's not like this is Nationals or anything."

He and Yuuko share a smile, while Victor keeps his face determinedly neutral, but he doesn't appreciate his soulmate being disrespected like this.

When the time comes, Victor joins Yuuri on the podium. It's a little surreal, being here as a coach: center-stage, but all the cameras and lights are focused on someone else. Yuuri looks pale and small under the harsh lighting, gripping the microphone and a bouquet of flowers a little too stiffly. He's asked a question-- probably to make some kind of statement-- and he stutters.

By now, Victor thinks he's learning his cue. He brings his hands up to Yuuri's arms, squeezing gently until the tension melts away. _I'm here_ , he tries to say, as he gives the cameras his professional smile. _Don't worry. Your soulmate is here._

Yuuri smiles, and makes his statement calmly. Victor can understand his own name and that's about it, but judging by the audience response, it was more than satisfactory. Victor gives him another squeeze, and Yuuri leans maybe half a centimeter into it, so subtle that no one else is likely to notice.

Victor wants to shake his head at his own folly. Really, he thinks, this should have been obvious from the start: this gentle support is only what Yuuri's been giving him since day one.

Victor doesn't have to go out of his way, or play a role that's too far out of his experience. He just has to meet Yuuri where he is.

*

After all the stress before Onsen on Ice, winning almost feels... anticlimactic.

Victor shields him a bit from the press, since they were mostly here for the Russian champion anyway. Spectators trickle out of the tiny rink and disperse into the streets twice as fast as at international events, and once the pushier press members and various busybodies realize that Victor plans to go home and retire for the evening, they lose interest as well.

By the time they've finished the long walk back to the onsen, the party has shrunk to Victor, Yuuri, and Minako-sensei. When they find Yurio on the front stoop with his luggage, glaring at them, Minako chuckles and goes inside, abandoning Yuuri to the Russians.

Yurio grumbles something to Victor in their native language. After years of international skating, Yuuri can recognize the words for "airplane," "ticket," and "tomorrow." Whatever it is, it makes Victor laugh.

Yuuri hesitates. Despite the boy's horrible attitude, he does feel for Yurio; he remembers being that age. Fifteen-year-old Yuuri would have been less shouty about it, but he too had been alone, cut off from his peers by the size of his ambitions and surrounded by people so much more socially mature than him that they may as well be speaking a different language. He too had tried to run away, had self-isolated because he didn't know anything else, had been constantly overwhelmed by his own feelings.

He also knows Yurio would never accept his sympathy.

"Yurio," he says now, cutting off an escalating argument with Victor, "I really loved your skating today. Will you stay for dinner?"

"Don't patronize me," Yurio snaps.

"I'm not. My mom's making katsudon to celebrate, and--" he glances at the door, making sure neither she nor Minako might be listening. "Honestly, she always makes too much. I need someone to eat the rest so I don't ruin all the dieting I just did."

Yurio sneers, but his hackles are coming down. "You really have no self-control, do you, piggy?"

"Yurio," Victor starts, but Yuuri just shakes his head sadly.

"One time I ate so much I got sick. I had to miss my own birthday party, it was terrible." He does not mention that it had been just weeks before his first Junior Nationals, and both the binge-eating and subsequent vomiting had been panic-induced. No one needs to hear that bit.

Yurio laughs openly at this, and agrees to come inside. Over dinner, his mother's food and Minako's chatter work their usual magic; soon they're all on their second helping, swapping horror stories of Aeroflot, ANA and various other airlines that they've all been on. This lets Victor get the details of Yurio's flight, and Yuuri has a suspicion that he plans to send them to their coach, to make sure the teenager gets home okay. Victor can be sneakily caring, he's noticed.

Around seven, Minako takes her leave of them. She wishes Yurio safe travels, then adds teasingly, "And I'll see you tomorrow, Yuuri... Vicchan."

Yuuri makes a face at her, but she's already out the door. And he knows he has only his mother to blame.

"What's that she's calling him?" Yurio asks, frowning. "Vee-cha?"

Mari, passing by on her way to the main dining room, laughs. "She said Vicchan. It's a diminutive-- you know, a cute nickname. Yuuri here used to be Yuu-chan."

"We called Yuuko that too," Yuuri reminds her. "It got kind of ridiculous."

"So I'm already Vitya?" Victor sounds delighted. "Wow! You should call me that too, Yuu-chan!"

Yuuri should explain that it's too familiar, that it's not normally used for grown men, especially by their new students. He should say that he doesn't want to be disrespectful. But he's sitting at the family dinner table, his belly is full of his favorite food and he'll realize later that he's got an additional pleasant buzz of contentedness filtered through his soulmate connection, so what instead comes out is, "I'm not going to call you what I call the dog."

"Dog? What dog?" Victor is even more excited. "You've never mentioned a dog!"

It's been months, but for a moment, Yuuri is right back at the Grand Prix Final, on the phone with Mari. He hasn't thought about Vicchan at all today. Just like he hadn't thought about Vicchan for five years.

"I..." He sets down his chopsticks. He's suddenly lost his appetite.

Luckily, his mother is there, placing more food on the table like it'll solve all his problems. "Vicchan was our toy poodle," she explains, her voice calm and polite when Yuuri's can't be. "He's not with us anymore."

"Oh." Yuuri refuses to look at Victor's face when he sounds like that. He can't do it. He can't. "Oh, Yuuri, I'm sorry."

"That sucks," Yurio adds, stabbing his pork with his chopsticks. "Wait, is that why you came home? To see him?"

"N-no, not exactly." Yuuri takes a sip of his water. He had never done that for Vicchan, not when he had the chance. "Anyway, it was months ago. I'm fine now."

"Months ago," Victor echoes. Realization dawns on his face. "At the GPF?"

"What?!" Now Yurio is staring too, horrified. "That's why--"

"Yes," Yuuri interrupts, not wanting to relive this. "I was kind of upset. It was after I skated, though, so it's not like it was any excuse-- but anyway. Months ago. I'm fine! Yurio, do you have any pets?"

For the first and only time since their waterfall trip, Yurio looks vulnerable. "I-- yeah. Potya. She's a cat."

"You never mentioned Potya before!" Victor's tone is aggrieved, though it somehow sounds fake, and he has an eye on Yuuri. "Why didn't you tell me you were hiding cute animal pictures?"

"Asshole, you never asked!"

What follows is perhaps the most aggressive exchange of pet pictures that Yuuri's ever been part of. After a minute, he's gotten himself together, and he can show them pictures of Vicchan-- whose full name he pointedly avoids mentioning-- and somehow, it's the best night he's had in a long time.

Afterwards, Mari gives them a pack of sparklers, so they can give Yurio a little going-away party. Victor, being absurd, starts waving his around, and Yurio makes some joke about a rematch, and before long the two Yuris are having a dance-off.

"Oi, old man, you better not be posting those!" Yurio shouts at Victor, who's holding his phone up, sparkler forgotten.

"Don't be silly! These are just for me, since I didn't get enough last time." He smiles at Yuuri as he says this, and there's something twinkling in his expression, something Yuuri can't name. "I want to hold onto a night like this."

It makes Yuuri think of Phichit, back in Detroit, who has to photograph every moment of his life as if he could quantify them, divide them all up and share them with his eight thousand faceless friends. It makes Yuuri think of the way Victor himself has been photographed over the years, his image captured and framed and commodified and sold around the world until millions of fans, Yuuri included, were convinced they had a piece of the real thing.

It also makes Yuuri think of his anonymous soulmate. He's felt their eyes all night; they must be looking at pictures from the competition. He had a brief moment of greatness today, three minutes when he put on the skin of someone beautiful and confident, and now someone is looking at that carefully edited image with such adoration and longing that it makes his heart hurt. Perhaps that's why Victor looks this way now-- a trick of the light and Yuuri's projection.

Regardless, it's silly to think this is something that could last. Yuuri has won the honor of Victor's attention for just a few months, and he refuses to waste them dwelling on what can't be.

So, faking confidence he doesn't quite feel, he shakes his head. "You can't really hold onto a moment if you don't live it first, can you?" he asks Victor, waggling his sparkler like a schoolteacher. "So put that down and dance with us."

Victor smiles, and Yuuri's heart _aches_. "Okay," he says, and they dance.

Victor keeps looking at him like this is something new, like Yuuri is teaching him something important... which is ridiculous. Victor's the one who's been living every moment since he came to Japan; he's the one always inspiring Yuuri to do better, be better, appreciate everything around him. Yuuri's just doing what he's been doing for eleven years: trying to reach where Victor already is.

They get back inside so late that they have to go straight to bed. Yurio lingers around the hallway, looking back for a moment, but as soon as Victor calls him, he snaps out of it. Yuuri forgets about it until the next morning, when they're all at the airport and Victor is on the phone with some Russian travel company. Yurio clears his throat uncomfortably.

It occurs to Yuuri that he hasn't been alone with the teenager since their Salchow practice sessions. He should probably thank him, especially after it helped Yuuri win. He opens his mouth to do so, but Yurio speaks first.

"About last night," he grumbles, playing with the zipper of his carry-on. "About... you know."

Yuuri blinks. He doesn't know. "About what?"

"About the-- the dog." Yurio glares accusingly up at him. "I didn't know, okay? At the GPF. I didn't know about the dog. So you can't be mad at me. I thought you were just whining about losing. I didn't know."

Yuuri stares at him for a moment. "Are you... apologizing?"

"No! I didn't know! You can't be mad, okay?"

"Okay." He smiles, a little crooked. "I'm not mad."

"Good!" Yurio huffs and looks away again. "And about before that-- you can't be mad about that either! No one cares about second place on the podium. You didn't need me there!"

Yuuri's smile grows. "I'm not mad at all."

"Then don't look so upset when you win! Don't think I didn't watch that video, with you looking all pathetic!"

Yuuri shrugs. It's nothing he hasn't heard before, although usually from someone close to him, and in kinder terms. "Sometimes I just don't like being in the spotlight. That wasn't about you."

Yurio stares at him like he's just said the sky is purple. "You don't like the spotlight, and you're a competitive skater?"

"I know, it doesn't make any sense." He can't really explain to someone like Yurio that succeeding in a small way-- not enough to be proud of, but enough to give people expectations about how he'll perform in the future-- makes Yuuri want to never perform again. Sometimes he can't even explain it to himself. So instead he settles for: "Did you know I ran away from the podium once? It was Junior Nationals, and I wasn't much younger than you. I was hiding in a hotel bathroom when they found me."

"Seriously?" Yurio looks incredulous-- then suddenly, delighted. "That's _way_ more embarrassing."

Yuuri nods sagely. "I've made a career out of embarrassing myself. Just don't tell Victor, I think I've almost convinced him I'm cool somehow."

Yurio rolls his eyes. "Victor thinking that doesn't actually mean anything, you know. He's a fucking dork."

Yuuri feels he should refute this, but... he thinks of Victor this week, touristing around Hasetsu, gleefully prying into Yuuri's life like it's his latest hobby, blithely laying out performance notes before Yuuri had even stepped off the ice, ribbon-dancing with a sparkler like a kid set loose in a gymnasium. It's a far cry from the silent, unknowable creature who used to adorn Yuuri's bedroom walls.

Yuuri should try to argue, should defend his idol's status as the coolest person in the world, but...

Instead he looks over, at where Victor is still negotiating something on the phone. He's standing near an airport eatery, which is playing some annoying pop jingle that's been bothering Yuuri since Nationals. Victor's bouncing his foot along to it, the fingers of his free hand twitching along to the melody. Russia's Living Legend is known for his piercing blue eyes and perfect jawline, but away from the cameras, Victor's natural resting face is soft, his eyes dreamy. His voice is loud and expressive, and he moves like there's music inside him.

As if sensing Yuuri's gaze, Victor looks over and smiles. It's open, and inviting, and Yuuri feels like he's never properly seen it before. He looks away quickly, embarrassed.

Yuuri has spent so long chasing an image, reaching for a voice in the distance. Now he's confronted with the real person behind it, and instead of being disappointed in meeting his hero, Yuuri finds himself wanting to learn more. He hopes he's earned enough of Victor's time to do so.

"Anyway," Yurio huffs into the silence, scowling at Victor as he finishes his call, "this whole thing was stupid. You guys are twins, right? He probably wouldn't have come back with me anyway, even if I won."

Yuuri tilts his head in confusion. "Twins?"

"You know, spirit twins! Ugh, or is it heart twins?" He jams his hands in his pockets, yanking out his phone, but it's not necessary. Yuuri has traveled the world. He has met skaters from everywhere, has been interviewed everywhere, has been to college and studied literature from everywhere. He has heard enough translations of this term, enough variations of this concept, to know exactly what Yurio means.

"Twin souls," he supplies, not even hearing Yurio's response as his stomach sinks and his vision starts to blur. "Soulmates."

Yuuri was wrong. He didn't earn anything at all, either with Stammi Vicino or Eros. Victor Nikiforov didn't come be Yuuri's coach because of who Yuuri is, or what he can do. Of course not.

Victor thinks they're soulmates. That's why he's here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, poor Yuuri. I promise he actually likes you. :^)
> 
> Anyway, thank you all so much for the lovely things you said about the last chapter. I'm blown away by the supportiveness of so many people in this fandom. I'll try to get the next chapter out sooner, and work on other content too!
> 
> I'm also torikabori on tumblr, by the way, if anyone wants to say hi in a place where I'm slightly more talkative. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


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